THE PATRIOT'S GRAVE.
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A few brief, toiling years
Since fell the nation's tears,
And lo, the patriot's gibbet is an altar!
The people that are blest
Have him they love the best
To mount the martyr's scaffold when they need him;
And vain the cords that bind
While the nation's steadfast mind,
Like the needle to the pole, is true to freedom!
III.
Three powers there are that dominate the world—
Fraud, Force, and Right—and two oppress the one:
The bolts of Fraud and Force like twins are hurled—
Against them ever standeth Right alone.
